Monthly Archives: May 2021
it gets curiouser and curious-er, her fascination with that sky sand dollar,that noble star scholar, mama moon. she swoons at crescent smile, a fine fool for full. you can question her about it some, but she has no words. only hum, and shine. It’s Quadrille Monday over at … Continue reading
this poem is a tightly wound spring. she’s a taut wound caught up in clacked-black things. she’s got unspoken broken and unscattered seed, unpolished corners and unmet needs. she’s a wayward kite on a fragile string. let’s unwind her now, and let her sing. Lill’s given us a fun … Continue reading
nope. things cancelledlives rankledtime tangled and all that crazy spin. so we begin to swallow our dis-appointments and our whys and try to find our glasses at least half fooled. the only way to cope: gulp hope. ::
at never being kissedat being dissed at having missed out on kingdom things. or perhaps he hops (happily) wild in the woodssheds all those shouldsand at nightfall, he sings. :: It’s Wednesday. We poem.
of hope, rising. she buys an umbrella. she holds hands with horizon. she winks at the sun. she slicks back her hair and gets busy. she hitchhikes on dandelion wishes. she piggybacks stars. Written for today’s twiglets. Come play!
Sole Searching(Written 18 years ago, when I was preggers with Abby.) Someday soon, my daughter will wear these booties, tiny feet splayed out in pink, ready for the world. And then, in the blink of an eye and a flutter … Continue reading
until your lungs scream until you’ve blown off the steam until the world seems just a little tamer. runwalk four until the sweat pours and the trees store up the last of your secretsand you can run and whisper and scream no more.
There is laughter when they think of all they were supposed to be, all corseted and silver-spoon fed with feet crammed into ridiculous shoes. Here, even the steeds are unshod and trail-trod, mudlucious in their gorgeous freedom. This forest is flush with both silence and song. Here, they choose. … Continue reading
it’s the downy kite stuff of wandered wishes, childish dreams and fragile hope. so much pondered promise in the audacity and tenacity of a simple weed. we don’t stop to doubt or wonder why. we just take a deep breath and fly. seeds let :: Merril’s got an … Continue reading
, all she remembers is blood -red wine in fragile glasses, and empty plates the color of bone. ::twiglet #225